


Nothing Good (Ever Happens After Two AM)

by Sarageek16



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Awkwardness, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarageek16/pseuds/Sarageek16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>◦When John takes Dorian’s virginity it makes Dorian’s circuits short out - his whole body lights up and he keeps making weird bleeping noises til John takes him to Robohospital where he has to explain what happened. </p><p>Or: Abruptly, the sheer hilarity of the entire situation smacked John in the face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Good (Ever Happens After Two AM)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Ничего хорошего (не случается в два часа ночи)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587337) by [kaiSSa666](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaiSSa666/pseuds/kaiSSa666)



> I have no excuses except this prompt: 
> 
> ◦when John takes Dorian’s virginity it makes Dorian’s circuits short out - his whole body lights up and he keeps making weird bleeping noises til John takes him to Robohospital where he has to explain what happened. 
> 
> And the fact that it's five AM. 
> 
> Ugh. 
> 
> My tumblr: eatwritesleepme.tumblr.com
> 
> (Maybe just maybe this might be a series keep your fingers crossed that I get my head out of my butt.)

Rudy bustled into the room looking like a blond, skinny sleepless cat whose just been shoved into a bucket of ice water. He had his case and a look in his eye that said he didn’t know whether to rip his hair out or build something that will eat John alive. (But not Dorian. He liked Dorian.)

                “This,” the technician said, pointing repeatedly at Dorian who is staring at the ceiling and refusing to speak to John (because that’s _so mature_ ). “Is—“ Point. “Not—“ Point. “Okay. You two aren’t even _on duty_. It’s two in the bloody morning! How is he injured!? _Why_ is he injured?!” There was a lot more pointing.  

                “Uh…“ John said, not sure what the hell he was going to say to the guy—hell, explaining the situation when they’d gotten to the Robohospital had been awkward enough. 

He’d been slightly more than a little frantic. He had stumbled into the hospital with Dorian’s limp body over his shoulder, waved his badge around like a madman and snapped out a half-assed explanation. They’d gotten a bed for Dorian to be laid out on and John had ran alongside them as they headed for a hospital room. 

John was promptly shoved to the side so a doctor and a nurse could work over his partner. Someone had put a tablet and a stylus in his hand to fill out the necessary paperwork. He did that, casting hawk-like looks over at the nurse who was repeatedly electrocuting his partner. 

Jesus Christ, he hated hospitals. 

But it seemed to work. Dorian came to—or whatever it was called when it you were dealing with bots—and the doctor and the nurse worked over him for a few more minutes before they backed away.

Then there was the embarrassing rehashing.  John’s heart slowed as the doc explained that Dorian was simply overwhelmed to the point where his circuits shorted out, he would be fine to go home very soon and maybe next time they could take it a bit slower?

After John agreed the nurse handed him about ten digital pamphlets. She was an older, matronly thing who winked at him as she did it. 

“The department has been notified of this visit, as per protocol.” The doctor was saying to Dorian. 

John blinked repeatedly, his heart going from slow to a stattaco beat of _shit shit shit._ He could practically _hear_ the gossip at the department spreading already. “Protocol?” he repeated stupidly. “We’re off the job. How in the hell is that—?”

                “Technically,” Dorian said, speaking for the first time since he’d started twitching, “I’m property of the department.” He said ‘property’ with a slightly wrinkled nose, which wasn’t adorable at all. John Kennex kicked bunnies and shot people. He didn’t call partners with big blue eyes and bleeding hearts adorable. “Damages have to reported back to the office so if I, say, walked in front of a bus--”

                “Why would you walk in front of a bus?” 

                Dorian got this ‘stupid humans called John are stupid’ look on his face. It wasn’t as scathing as you’d think. Just kind of pitying. “I didn’t say that I would, I said if that were to _happen,_ John, then the department would need to know so you could be assigned temporary MX-43—“ 

“Over my cold, dead body—“

 “Or we would have to work in the office until Rudy fixed it.” He finished. “Don’t worry: it only goes to the chief if it’s a major injury.” 

“Quite right,” the doctor—Dr. Cassidy, John finally read on her nametag now that he wasn’t trying to blink panic sweat out of his eyes—said with a nod. “We’ll keep you in for observation for about an hour longer, but you should be free to go very soon. Just in case, your technician is coming down to the hospital to check over Dorian here.” She didn’t seem to be offended at the notion that her work wasn’t up to par. “You should both expect him soon.” 

“Thank you both,” Dorian said gravely. 

“Yeah, thanks, doc. And, uh—“ he rapped on the glossy digi-pamphlets on his lap with a knuckle. “Nurse.”           

The doc and the nurse left the pure white hospital room, the latter with a small smile on her face. It made John wonder.

The mood quickly turned awkward. 

“So,” John said. He wasn’t usually the type to be at a loss for words, but this situation was a whole new thing for him. He’d been through a lot of things but he could honestly say that this? Was a definite first.  

“I would like to take a few minutes, if you don’t mind.” Dorian told him. He was still in the clothes that John had shimmied on to him to protect his dignity. They were about the same height so the dark blue sweatpants fit but the green shirt was a little large on him. 

“Whatever you want,” John said. “That’s cool.”

Dorian seemed to settle in to that quiet/pondering/awkward mood that he got sometimes.  John decided to leave him to it for a little while. He picked up one of the pamphlets, stretched his legs out, and started to read.

  _Copulating With Your Synthetic: What You Both Want and Need to Know_ , the first one said. He grimaced at the sheer hospital-ness of the title. But…

John looked at Dorian, who wasn’t paying attention to him, and slowly slid the card into his pocket. 

Might as well. 

The second pamphlet wasn’t much better. _On Synthetic Reproductive Parts,_ it said, the pixels forming a glossy picture of a smiling synthetic woman standing next to a doctor _._

John decided to toss that one. Against his better judgment, he reached for a third one. _Does My Synthetic Feel Pleasure Too?_

From the way that Dorian had been acting, that was a _definite_ yes. He’d made these _noises_ and gripped John tight enough to bruise before his disco face came on and he started twitching in the _not_ fun way. It had been going so well until then, too. 

Abruptly, the sheer hilarity of the entire situation smacked John in the face. 

To his credit, he tried. Really. He pressed his lips together to hold in the snickers, but they’d escaped through his nose, coming out as obnoxious snorts. 

“Is something funny?” Dorian asked, sounding half prim, half warning. He probably knew _exactly_ what John was laughing at and wanted to stop it. 

But his voice broke the thin veneer of control that John had. Within moments the detective was belly laughing, slapping his knee and hooting. Through watery eyes he could see his partner glaring at him, an atypical scowl on his face. 

“It’s not funny, John.” 

That only made John laugh even harder. 

So when Rudy finally came in, John was wiping the last of tears of mirth away from his eyes. Which made it even harder to try and come up with some sort of response.  Normally Dorian would say something for him, but he was currently being a big, robotic baby. 

“Didn’t you read the report?” John asked instead. 

“Did I read the report?” Rudy repeated. Maybe sleeplessness made him more sarcastic. “ _No_ I didn’t read the report, it was a struggle enough to drive here without falling asleep.” Grumbling under his breath, he turned to the bed and picked up the tablet attached to the end of it. “So, do you want to explain yourself or—“ He fell silent, eyes glued to something on the tablet. 

“Yep,” John sighed. “That’s what happened.” Every so often, his lips twitched sporadically. A side effect of having the best laugh that he’d had in years. “

Rudy made these incoherent noises. 

“Rudy?” Dorian finally spoke up. “Are you all right? Your vitals suggest that—“ 

Rudy shot him a look. Dorian went quiet, looking at over John with big ‘do something’ eyes, sucking him into a conversation. (Apparently the silent treatment didn’t include silent conversations.)

 _What am I supposed to do?_ John asked him with his eyebrows. 

_I don’t know,_ Dorian replied, _But the man looks like he’s about to have a seizure, John. Say something._

John shook his head. _You say something. You’re the reason why—_

Narrowed eyes glared at him. _Finish that thought. I dare you, Detective._

“Why…” Rudy’s accent was kind of strained. “Why would you two even—I mean there was _speculation_ but—“ 

“We thought it would be fun,” John said. “You know. Relax the old third leg.” 

“Ignore him,” Dorian advised as Rudy started to turn purple. “We’ve actually been dating for the past month. I mentioned to John that I haven’t had sex yet, and he decided that it was the perfect time to remedy that. So technically,” he looked at John, “this is _your_ fault.” 

“I can’t help that I’m just that good.” John smirked at Rudy. “I blew his mind. _Literally._ ” 

“I’m leaving now,” Rudy said darkly, reaching for his case to flip it shut again. “Clearly, my assistance is no longer needed here. You _both_ owe me tea. Dorian, if you need anything, you know where I am. Come _alone._ ” 

John opened his mouth to make a joke, but Dorian shot him a look that was enough to stall him. Rudy made his escape, slamming the door shut behind him.

Later, when they were out of the hospital (with John’s pamphlets) Dorian faced him, laying on his side in bed. (He didn’t _actually_ have to sleep but John had made noises about being stared at while he snored. It was creepy, damn it. So they compromised: Dorian was allowed to watch him _sometimes_ but otherwise went into rest mode.)

“We’re gonna try again, right?” his voice was pensive. 

“Hell yeah we are.” John looked at him, slightly alarmed. “You don’t want to.” 

“I do,” Dorian confirmed with a nod. “Just checking.” 

They fell into silence. John shifted around a little in bed, moving his leg with him. Finally, he ended up with his back to his partner’s warm chest, an arm curled around his waist. It was kind of really gay. 

John couldn’t let it go, though. Not for the moment. “What, you were worried or something?” 

“I was,” his partner replied, “But I’m not now.” 

“Well you shouldn’t be,” John said firmly. “’Cause that was all sorts of awesome before you went all twitchy on me.  Next time we’ll just win the race slow and steady. Like turtles. Or sloths.” 

“I think I’ve got it, John.” 

“No need to be all Speedy Gonzalez,” John said, a smile starting to break out on his face. “Not when you can be like a glacier or molasses on an icy slope or—“ 

Dorian kissed him, and when John kept talking through it with a huge grin he pulled back, grabbed his pillow and started thumping him with it.  


End file.
